Raindrops
by Ravenfire385
Summary: Just a collection of muses I've written.
1. Guardian

Guardian

The cloak swirled around his legs in a misty, ethereal way. He approached the child, kneeling at her side. His scythe vanished into a trickle of white smoke, as to not scare the girl. She turned her head on the downy pillow to look at him with eyes suddenly clear and lucid. When he spoke, his voice was layered by millions of others, a voice that knew no age, only time and fate.

"Annabelle…" he whispered soothingly, cupping her pale cheek with one hand. "Anna, do you want to see your grandmother again? Do you want to go visit the angels?" She smiled longingly.

"Yes…" she breathed, then coughed harshly. "I want to see Nana again…"

"Hush, child. Sleep. Your Nana will be on the other side, when you wake up. Would you like that?" Anna nodded, her breaths evening out slowly. Her chest fell still, beautiful steel grey eyes glassy in eternal sleep. Death reached up and closed her eyes with two fingers, sliding pale lids over farseeing eyes. Standing, Death took Anna's hand and tugged, pulling a pale white shadow of the girl with him. He scooped the 'child' into his arms and walked from the bedside. By the time he reached the room's threshold, he had vanished, leaving a peaceful silence in his wake.


	2. Smile

Smile

I looked around, then swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Standing, I paused. Why was everyone crying? A hand set itself on my shoulder, and I stared into the face of a being too beautiful to comprehend. "Come, my child. It is time for you to rest. You have had a long, tough life. Walk with me." I was led forward. I took one step after another, not noticing as the ground fell away beneath my feet. The sound of sobbing resonated in my ears, and I realised distantly that I must have passed on.

"My Lord, why do they cry? Is it not better that I no longer suffer?" the being smiled kindly.

"Yes, my son. They cry for whom they have lost. They are happy that you no longer suffer, but weep for the loss of your presence. You are lucky, my child. There are many who die alone, with no one to shed tears for them." We stopped walking. "Welcome to the Gates of Heaven, child. You are free now. Rejoice."

"My Lord, may I pass a message to those on the Earth?" the being thought, then nodded.

"You may."

OoOoOoOo

The man's wife sniffled, clenching her late husband's hand in her own. A piece of paper crackled, and the woman jumped. Pulling it from his grasp, the woman read the words, and wept anew. There, in her husband's spiky, familiar handwriting, was written, 'Do not cry because it is over. Smile because it happened.'


	3. Rain

Rain

The harness fits snugly around me, and I can feel the rope behind me as I climb higher and higher. The ground falls away beneath my feet. One raindrop hits my face, then another. All I hear is the soft patter of raindrops, light and sweet. I turn my face to the sky as I reach the top. Scrambling for a grip, I turn myself around, then stare down a fifty-foot drop. The bell sits on the wire, so teasing.

_Jump. You know you can do it._ It chimes in the wind.

"I'm coming." I tell it, but falter.

_Just jump. Don't think, but jump. _ It laughs.

"I'm coming." I tell it again, but the bell knows I'm afraid.

_Jump. After all, what is life but a leap of faith? Put your faith in your own hands, and _live. And so I do. I jump from my safety point and the bell rings triumphantly. _See? All you had to do was have _faith_! _I look up at the top of the pole as they unclip my harness. As I walk away, onto the next challenge, the bell's tinkering laugh echoes resoundingly in my ears. _What is life but a leap of faith?_


	4. Inside

Inside

It grew, swelling to an ache. The rhythms pounded through her, voices raised in exultation. The drums rattled on and on, filling her with the desire to dance until she dropped. She lifted her face to the sky, clenching her eyes shut as the emotions fought for dominance within her. All around her bodies swayed and stepped, clapped and stomped until she couldn't stand it. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She needed to do something.

She struggled out of the crowd and ran, dropping to her knees in the dirt. The song was quieter now, the need to do crazy things dulled with the space. A warm hand settled on her shoulder, then another cooler one on the back of her neck. They moved in soothing motions until her breathing settled from a jerking pull to a quick inhale, exhale.

"You feel it, don't you?" Black eyes met blue. She nodded. "That is why we sing, why we dance. Together, we are one. Apart, we are broken. Come, sing. Do not fight it, little girl. We will teach you." They stood.

All around her, voices boomed and hummed, sang and trilled. Drums rattled and beat a steady rhythm. She swayed and stepped, clapped and stomped, hummed and sang until her voice gave out. The sky above them lightened, the fire shrank. They paused to watch the sun rise.

"We live for the sunrise. We live for the night. For the music, for the love of life itself." A cool hand settled on the back of her neck, and she leaned into the touch. "Without music, what is life?"


	5. Humanity

Humanity

"_What happens to you after you die?"_ Everyone paused at the teacher's question. His hand went up.

"_When you die…people are sad."_ The teacher nodded and started to continue. _"They look away."_ He continued, making the teacher fall silent to listen in curiosity_. "They go silent. Sometimes, they might even cry. Then, they stop talking about you and they start forgetting."_ His voice roughened, and the room held its breath. The teacher sat down numbly.

"_You start to fade in their memories. They start subconsciously adding details to your face that weren't there before, substitute phrases into your fragmenting sentences that weren't what you said before. They cut and paste and add to your image, until you are no longer you but the person they perceived you as. People remember you not as who you are but who you appear to be, after all."_ A girl began to cry, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. The teacher had to remind herself to breathe as the quiet words seemed to tear through the room like a hurricane. He stopped talking, and another boy raised his voice almost cautiously.

"_But that's not really fair, is it? What if the person you appeared to be was not you at all? What if you wanted to be remembered for something different, but no one remembered that aspect of you?"_ the first speaker nodded.

"_If people cannot forget me after I die, then I wish that no one will ever think of me. They will lock every memory of me away. They will never speak my name, look at my picture, or visit my grave. That way, I will always be me, right?"_ he smiled wistfully and stood. "What else should I say?" he walked out, quietly closing the door behind him.

(Main quote italicized - author unknown)


	6. Flash

Flash

Lights flash. Blue and white beat a sharp counterpoint to red against a glossy black background. The officer strides up to our car and bends over. I hide my face in my hands.

"Any reason you were going 80 in a 65?" he inquires. She smiles.

"Just a long drive ahead of us, I guess." The officer nods. Behind him, the lights continue to flash. They beat a relentless rhythm against the sky, never stopping to rest. He walks back to his car and remains there for several minutes. When he returns, he hands her a pink slip, explaining it quickly. She smiles again, thanks him, and pulls back onto the freeway. Behind us, the lights flash on.


	7. Breathe

Breathe

Exhaustion. Sweat. Her breathing comes in heavy, rasping breaths. A flash of colour, a sharp crack, and a reaction. The ball rolls out of bounds.

"Good touch." Her coach calls, and she readies herself. Another flash, another crack, another split second reaction. Her coach moves forward with another ball on his stick. She gathers her energy, bull-rushes her coach. Desperate move, she stretches out along the ground, and her coach jumps over her, popping the ball over. Her gear shifts as she stands on the line one more time.

"Last shot!" a flash, a crack, and she hits the ground hard. "Awesome!" her coach calls again. The ball trickles over the end line. She gets to her feet. Exhaustion. Sweat. Her breath comes in heavy, rasping breaths.


	8. Colourblind

Colourblind

Pink. Brown. White. Blue. They ran together until his mind swam. He leaned against the trunk, the soft cherry petals drifting into his hair. Pink. The petals that cascaded around him. The innocence that shone in her eyes until her illness caught her. Brown. The tree he leaned against. The trust that shone in her eyes until the doctors lied to her. "You'll be alright, you'll pull through," they had said. He closed his eyes. White. The clouds that drifted by overhead. The safety that shone in her eyes until she got so sick she couldn't sit up. Blue. The sky that loomed above him. The peace that shone in her eyes until she realized what was happening wasn't reversible. He wept.

Black. Grey. Green. Red. They ran together until they were one blur. He leaned against her bed, the sheets rustling gently. Black. The shadows dancing under his eyes. The sadness that beat in his heart until he met her. Grey. The jacket she would wrap herself in to smell him. The unbreakable strength that beat in his heart until she touched him. Green. The bracelet she had woven onto his wrist while he was sleeping. The harmony that beat in his heart until she kissed him. Tears slid down his cheeks. His fists clenched in the comforter she loved so much. Red. The necklace she had made for him, so he wore it every day. The courage that beat in his heart until he got down on one knee. He wept.

Gold. Teal. Ivory. Silver. They ran together until nothing mattered anymore. He leaned against the stone, the chill making him shiver. Gold. The ring on a chain around his neck. The faith he held until his father died. Teal. Her eyes catching the sunlight and reflecting like a pool of water. The stoicism he held until he met her. He had been bitter, he reflected. She tore down his walls, made him vulnerable after his father's death. She made him feel again. Ivory. The glint in his ear, a gift from her. The purity he held until he kissed her. Neither of them were pure after that night, he mused. Silver. The promise ring he slid on her finger when she was diagnosed. "I'll wait for you." He had whispered in her ear. The sense of justice he held until she died. He wept.


End file.
